“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t have anything to say to him.”
Ana shrugs. “Fine, then don’t. Don’t talk to him. Just fuck him.”
Down goes my drink. I catch it last minute.
“Jesus Christ, Ana…!” I whisper fiercely. “Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?”
Poke number nine.
“You,” she says, taking a sip out of my whiskey glass.
“Well, stop it,” I say, swatting her hands away. “I don’t like it. You’re too young.”
She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “For God’s sake, Elle. I’m graduating college soon. And I can drink and curse and do lots of things.” She smirks.
“Including piss me off. You’re doing a helluva job at that.” I laugh, giving Ana a nudge.
She smiles back at me because she knows I’m trying to deflect. I smile at her because I know she’s right… about two things.
Firstly: she’s a grown woman; I can’t tell her what to do anymore… but dammit, I’d wish she’d stop growing up. I miss my sweet little Ana.
Guess I have to accept… that that sweet little Ana is gone, and in her place is a nearly twenty-two year old titan with brains and beauty and ambition.
As for her second assertion? Well, that’s even more true.
I’m wound tighter than a drum… and you could probably play a beat on my ass, it’s so clenched.
Everyone at this party is letting their hair down, cutting loose, but me?
I’m only becoming even more rigid—even more firm. In an effort to be more austere, I’ve pinned my hair up instead, and I’m walking around like a stick figure with an inflated head.
And it’s all because of my control.
Like my drink, it’s slipping intermittently from my fingers, threatening to crash like glass against the floor.
I can’t do as much as cross my legs properly at this party without squeezing them too tightly.
Linda’s called my cell three times already while I’ve been here, and I can’t even work up the composure to open my little wristlet and answer.
Flashbacks of me fiddling with my keyboard rock my consciousness at random times.
I see myself leaning back in my computer chair as Lukas fucks me on the screen. I feel my fingers drift as they reach towards my clit and start rubbing upon his command.
I was a slave to the page, letting him sex me via Skype text, and I’d never felt so turned on.
I didn’t even know his face…
And now that I do, the ache that he started is only made worse—heightened, by his presence, his swagger—his style.
There’s something so despicable—and delectable—in it all. I can’t make up my mind.
Ana pulls me back into reality.
“Elle?” She pulls at me.
“Hm?”
“Make up your mind. Either, you’re going to go over there and say something to Mr. Melts-My-Panties, or you are going to be on your own. I’m done playing bodyguard. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I tighten my hold on her. “What? Are you saying you’re going to abandon me?”
“You’re a big girl, Elle, so yes. I am leaving you to your own devices.”
I grit my teeth. “Dammit, Ana. If you do, then this old creepy guy that’s been ogling me all night is going to try to sweep in!”
“Just crush his dreams like you do every other guy’s.” She flashes a mocking smile.
I scoff. “I would… except I’m not in the business of geriatric abuse.”
“Just take out one little hip. That never killed anybody.” Ana winks and then takes off.
I grasp for her arm, but she’s already out of reach.
“Ana!” I hiss at her. “Psst! Ana!”
She blows a kiss at me from thirty feet away and disappears among the partygoers.
Shit, Ana. I growl out of frustration, nearly stomping my foot. Where the hell is Kat? This is her party, anyway.
Where the hell are my sisters when I need them? Who the hell is going to be my buffer for Lukas now?
A shadow descends upon my back. I turn around.
Or him, for that matter…
A set of falsies is gleaming right at me the second that Anastasia leaves my side, the geriatric Casanova making his way over to me in record time.
I don’t have the patience for this shit.
“Hello,” he says suddenly.
He flashes a mouthful of dentures that are as gray as his hair, and I nearly choke on my drink as I attempt a swallow. I sit my glass on a nearby tray.
“Hi.”
“Would you like to dance?”
I start fumbling for words. “Oh, no. No, I’m, uh…”
“Here with someone?”
Ha! Inspiration. “Yes,” I smile with fake enthusiasm. “Yes, I am.”
“Well, where is he?” the past-his-prime pimp begins to ask.
“Excuse me?”
“Where is he? I’ve seen you alone all night… or with some other woman. I don’t think you’re here with anyone… except for me right now.” He smiles wickedly.
My blood boils.
“Well, you’re clearly mistaken,” I respond. “So if you don’t mind…”
He steps in front of me, blocking my path as I try to escape. Now, I’m starting to see red.
I’ve underestimated the old timer. He’s faster than he looks. And though I may have been a pansy-ass about Lukas all night, I certainly won’t cower to this “cant-take-a-hint” geezer.
“I do mind, actually,” he continues. “I’ve been watching you all night, and I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than a dance with you.”
He pauses, extending a hand. “You might enjoy it, too.”
I’m done being polite. “Doubtful, Mister…Whoever-You-Are… but I will tell you this: You’re pushing your luck… and any second my…”
“Boyfriend is going to be here.”
I stop and turn to face the solid wall that now sits at my back. It’s Lukas.
All six feet of him. Standing directly behind me.
“Sorry it took so long, baby.” He hands me a drink. “The bar got really crowded.”
I nearly stammer. “Don’t worry. I was just telling this… fine gentleman about you.”
“Ah, I see. Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”
Lukas circles around me, standing between the other man and me. He clasps a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Beat it, Pops.”
He gives a slight head nod to the persistent prick who’s still standing there dumbfounded, and then he turns to me, effectually dismissing the embarrassed man and his advances.
I stifle a chuckle. Lukas smiles at me.
A real smile. No dentures.
His dark hair is slightly tousled, and the shadowy stubble on his face frames perfectly white teeth.
His silent charm is rubbing off on me, and I’m doing everything I can to not give in.
“I saw you needed help,” he declares. “I came to save you.”
I give an incredulous laugh. “Save me? I didn’t need saving.”
“I overheard,” he says. “You started to say that any second…”
“’My knee would be in his balls.’ That’s how I was going to end that sentence.”
I lean into my glass, trying to hide the gratitude that’s on my face. As thankful as I am for his small interference, I know better than to lose my wits.
Owing Lukas Griffin will undoubtedly come with a hefty payment, and it’s the type of debt that I can’t afford to have him collect.
I keep my face stoic while he watches me.
“Touché, Miss Lexington. Tou-fucking-ché.” He takes a sip of his drink, grinning casually.
“Well, since you seem to have everything over here handled, I think I’ll go rescue some real damsels in distress.”
My heart stops at his implication… but I shrug.
“Be my guest.”
His stare turns sm
oldering. “I will.” He steps away.
I watch him go.
I let go of a shaky breath when he’s far enough way. I don’t see him again for what seems like the rest of the night.
A Rook-ie Mistake
My opponents make good moves too. Sometimes I don't take these things into consideration. - Bobby Fischer
ELENA
After Lukas leaves, I resign myself to actually having some fun.
I dance. I dally. I drink.
A LOT.
There seems to be a surgically irremovable glass of liquor in my hands at all times, and I am casually entertaining so many people that one might even mistake me as the “life of the party”—which I never am.
I don’t even recognize myself.
My world has been turned upside—unwittingly flipped by my new uprooting, my new career goals… my new “family.”
First, the addition of Foxx—now, Griff, and honestly… I just don’t know the rules to this.
Am I supposed to treat him like family? Invite him over for barbeque and beer?
He’s like a brother to Brendon. How the hell am I supposed to act?
***
LUKAS
“Stop staring at her,” Chris says to me, knocking his knuckles against my chest.
I feign ignorance, peering at him over the lip of my quickly disappearing scotch. “What are you talking about?”
“Elena. Stop staring at her. You’ve been gawking all night. I know when you’re eyeing someone. Just like you used to gape at Becky Fletcher in eighth grade. You’re not as stealthy as you think you are.”
I shrug with a laugh, sitting my empty scotch glass on a nearby waiter’s tray.
“Delusion is a sickness, Chris. You might want to see someone about that.”
He takes a sip of his drink. “I already see someone about my anxiety-based delusions, Griff; this is not one of them. I know you. I know when you’re scoping someone out. Even if no one else can see it.”
“The only thing you might see in my eyes is irritation. I’m tired of this dark liquor. I need something white. And I am not scoping out Elena.”
I try to play it cool.
“Besides… I’ve never nabbed a girl with short hair before. What would I hold onto?” I smirk, dismissing Chris’s accusation.
“If you’re as good as you say you are, Griff… you’ll figure it out.”
“Damn straight,” I say, toasting him with an invisible glass.
“Except…” Chris begins.
“Except what?”
“I don’t know, bro. This Elena, man… She’s different…”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Different how?”
“I don’t know… Can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something different about her… and Kat. These Lexington women… they don’t come cheap.”
“So, what are you saying, Chris?”
“I’m saying that this won’t be as easy as you think. You remember the few things Foxx did tell us about her, don’t you?”
I squint harder, placing a hand in my pants pocket. “Yeah, I do. Something about Elena being hard as nails… a real ball-breaker or something like that…”
“’Ball-breaker?’” Chris guffaws out loud. “He said any man’s nuts will be able to fit through a flour sifter by the time Elena’s done with them.”
He winces, looking conspicuously down at his family jewels.
“Ahhh, but you’re missing one important thing here, Mr. Johnson,” I say, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “I’m not just any man. This is me—Lukas Griffin you’re talking about.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten my, uh… special skills.”
He laughs. “Not going to lie, Griff. When it comes to women, you’re the master at bagging the best. I’ve never seen someone have ‘em eating out of the palm of their hands the way you do, but… I’m just saying…”
“Say no more, Chris. Just let me handle Elena… that is, if I decide to even give it a go…”
Chris shrugs. “Whatever you say, man. Can’t say I didn’t warn you…”
His eyes look over my shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a dance with the pretty redhead in the corner.”
He passes his drink to me, flashing me a mocking smile. “Good luck.” He takes off into the crowd, heading towards the furthest nook of the room.
I frown at his retreating back. Luck? My ego scoffs. Hmph. I don’t need luck.
Forget being the Master; I’ve got a goddamned PhD in women. I can have any woman I want in this room. I glance at the long legs under the red dress.
With the exception of maybe one—the most difficult one. Every man in here wants her—including me—and I’m doing my damnedest not to show it.
I down what’s left of Chris’s drink. No. Fuck that. Nabbing Elena is definitely a challenge… but I have never (and I do mean never) backed down from one. And I sure as hell am not going to start now.
I head towards that red dress when a hand snakes out of the crowd, gripping me tightly.
“Looking for me?” she hisses seductively. She pulls me into her, leaving me no choice but to gaze into her eager eyes. Her glossy tendrils are framing her face, her dark hair pulled up into a high, messy bun.
She’s as beautiful as she’s ever been, but her features are hardened, made grotesque by the unhinged look emanating from her wide, green irises.
Trina. “Trin,” I call her like I used to. “Hi. No, actually… “ I stall. “I’m only looking for the head. Gotta take a leak.”
My voice is gruff: clipped. I’m not looking to be near her any longer than I have to. I pull slyly out of her grasp, taking a step in the opposite direction.
“No way, handsome,” she coos, tugging me full-circle back into her body. “I deserve a dance. It’s the least you can give me, don’t you think?”
I stiffen.
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s been over for Trina and me for a long time, but I guess I always knew that she got the shitty end of the stick.
I knew I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship when we first hooked up; I told her so right away.
When she got too clingy, I ended it as amicably as anybody really could in those circumstances, but she never really got the picture, no matter how clear I’d been.
I scan the dance floor for Elena again, but she’s gone, those long legs and blonde hair missing from the spot that she once occupied.
I turn back to Trina, swallowing a lump in my throat.
I’ve dumped a lot of girls in my time, but this is the only one that I feel guilty about. Trina used to be a nice girl; I should’ve never gotten involved with her.
“Ok,” I relent with a nod. “One dance won’t kill me.”
She grabs onto my palms, wrapping my arms around her. “I make no promises, Mr. Griffin.” And then we start to move.
The band starts to play “The Girl from Ipanema” and Trina begins to sway seductively. I’m no slouch on the dance floor. I lead, spinning her skillfully as we swing on the beat.
But she’s clutching me just a bit too tight and sliding just a tad too close. I back up by a step.
“Watch it, Trina. You’re going to get us in trouble.” I smile, trying to thwart her unwanted advances.
She gives a high-pitched giggle, grabbing onto me. She brings her face close to mine, whispering. “Oh, Griff. I am the trouble.”
I stare into her eyes, mesmerized. Those wide, green irises. They aren’t just wide. They’re dilated: unnaturally and inexplicably large.
She’s as high as a kite.
I grab her shoulders. “Trina…”
She digs her nails into my arms, standing on her tiptoes to try to kiss me. I dodge her lips.
“Trina,” I grab her harder. “Listen to me…”
But she doesn’t. She puts a finger on my lips, nearly into my mouth. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, Griff…”
I snatch her finger. “I haven’t even seen you all nig
ht, but I would have avoided you because of...”
“Me.” The voice over my shoulder startles me, and I turn to find piercing blue eyes staring back at me.
Elena reaches out, prying Trina’s small fingers from around my stiffened arm.
“I’m his girlfriend… Trina,” she spouts mockingly. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d give him some air to breathe and some space to dance with his actual partner.
“And might I suggest you hit the ladies’ room while you give us room? You’ve got a little snow under your nose there.”
Trina scowls, stepping away from the both of us with a heated glance. Elena slips into the circle of my arms where Trina just was.
She dips a few fingers into her cleavage, tossing a handkerchief at Trina, which she catches.
“Probably would be a good idea to wipe that look off of your face as well. Your desperation is seeping through your pores.”
Ouch. Even I feel the sting of that one.
I stand still, waiting for a comeback from Trina, but it doesn’t happen. She takes what shreds of dignity she still has left and hightails it towards the hallway where the restrooms lie, the golden tail of her dress dragging as she scurries away.
Elena and I continue dancing as part of the ruse. Mm, this feels good.
“Wow,” I say to her. “You’re a natural.”
“At dancing?”
“No. At making people cry.”
She laughs, bowing her head to cover up a small smile. Her soft blonde hair smells fragrant, like vanilla. She raises her face towards mine again.
“She didn’t cry,” she remarks. “Not yet…” She shrugs absently, moving slowly to the music.
My hands squeeze gently on Elena’s hips, and I realize that we still haven’t stopped dancing…
“Uh huh, Miss Lexington,” I tease. “Nice cover-up… but you get what you give.”
“Oh, you mean karma?” she asks. I nod slowly. “Don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t cry easily…”
“You might be surprised.” My eyes shoot to her lips. “You know… when some women experience intense orgasms… instead of moaning or screaming, they cry… “
She snorts softly. “Cry?”
Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel Page 24